


Lucky (Miraculous One-Shot)

by MiraculouslyTrashy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Memory Loss, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29710614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraculouslyTrashy/pseuds/MiraculouslyTrashy
Summary: 4 years. Gone.After a mysterious accident causes Marinette to lose 4 years worth of memories; 4 years of being Ladybug, 4 years worth of friendship, how will she find herself again? And how will Chat find his missing Ladybug?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, love square - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Lucky (Miraculous One-Shot)

“Tomorrow? Same time?” Chat leans casually on his staff, watching Ladybug wave bye to the last few onlookers from today's Akuma fight in the park. It had been a quick battle but the sun is setting behind the buildings surrounding them, leaving them in shadow. 

She turns back to him and rolls her eyes, “Four years of patrols and you still haven't caught onto our schedule?” She jokes, flicking the bell under his chin. 

He shrugs, smirking, “Just checking to make sure I have something to look forward to tomorrow.” 

Ladybug sighs, resigning, “I’ll see you tomorrow, not that I'm something to look forward to.” She starts to walk away, swinging her yo-yo around to build momentum. 

She can barely hear him say “You are to me,” above the sound of her yo-yo whirling through the air. She keeps her face forward, cheeks burning around the edges, and flings her yo-yo to pull her way towards home. 

Chat stares after her until she’s out of sight. 

He’s been getting a little more forward with his flirting lately, and Ladybug hates to admit to herself that her resolve is crumbling. 

At first, she was just humoring him, his compliments and flirtations passed through her, never actually touching her, so it was easy. But as the years have gone by, he’s matured some and she’s gotten to know him as a person, a friend; as much as they can know each other without revealing any identities. Built on mutual respect, their partnership is much more now. In her dreams, her mind drifts closer to imaginary plots with Chat than to Adrien. At first, she justified this by reasoning she spends more one-on-one time with Chat than Adrien, so naturally she dreams about him more. But lately, deep down, she recognizes that  _ other  _ reasons might exist for this phenomenon. 

Adrien still holds a prominent place in her heart but she’s been unknowingly been making room for Chat on the side; only realizing how large his side has grown recently.

She gracefully lands on the edge of a rooftop, breathing in the cool air of the coming evening. One last sweep of the streets on her side of town before she heads home to finish a history essay she had mostly finished, just needing the conclusion, which is always the hardest part.

She winds up her yo-yo again, and throws...

She feels the surface beneath her feet fall away suddenly and in slow motion. The old roofing crumbles under her, sending her plummeting off the three-story building into the darkness of the alley. Her yo-yos trajectory misfires, and she flails to readjust it to catch on something, anything, as the ground quickly approaches. 

This isn't the first time she’s had to get herself out of a dangerous situation, she does it nearly every time there’s an Akuma attack. Quick thinking is her specialty.

But this time feels different, more out of control, unexpected. It takes her mind a second longer to catch up to what was happening than when she’s fighting Akumas. This caught her off guard.

Her yo-yo snags a chimney, the slack in the line tightening, but isn't fast enough. She pulls on the string with both hands, angling her body up so her feet are pointed in the direction of the string, readying herself to swing out of the alley.

Waiting for the upward pull, she sucks in a breath, just as the back of her head collides with the concrete. She cries out, her hands releasing her yo-yo to reflexively cradle her head. With the remaining forward momentum that her yo-yo had imparted, she tumbles forward. She practically rolls until hitting another brick wall at the end of the alley, falling onto her side. 

The stars flashing before her eyes quickly fade to black.

Her earrings beep without acknowledgement, leading to the flash of light of her detransformation briefly lighting the grim scene. Tikki is ejected from the Miraculous, dizzy and confused. But forces herself to focus on her unmoving Chosen. 

“Marinette! Marinette you need to get up! Come on!” She nudges and pulls at Mari with no response.

A thin stream of red trickles down Marinette’s forehead. 

On the edge of tears, Tikki flies to the mouth of the alley, staying in the shadows and cries out “Help! Somebody help!” As loud as she’s capable, “Please!” she begs.

A young couple, in their 30s, passing by on the sidewalk hears Tikki’s wails for help, giving each other a brief look before cautiously approaching the dark alley. “Hello?” The woman calls out, the tentative greeting deadened by the brick walls. 

Tikki flies back to Marinette, “Over here! Help!” She calls before hiding in Marinette’s shirt.

The woman turns on her flashlight from her phone, illuminating Mari’s crumpled form some 20 feet away. They gasp, immediately dialing 112.

~

A flood of grogginess holds Marinette under the surface of consciousness, as if sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Cold and stiff, she can’t make herself swim to the surface, becoming more and more content to float under the water. 

This feeling seemed to go on forever, seeing no end in sight, until one morning the weight above her lightens. As if rising to meet the waves, she breaks the surface, blinded by harsh unnatural light. 

She squeezes her eyes shut against this intrusion, wrinkling her nose to the stench of her overly sterile environment. 

“Marinette?” A hopeful voice whispers. She feels a warm hand wrap around hers, finally something gentle and inviting in this cruel place she seems to have woken to. 

Mari urges her fingers to move in response, causing a round of quiet encouraging voices to sound off. 

Finally adjusting to the light, her eyes pry themselves open, taking in a blurry image of her mother. As her vision clears, her mom seems tired, worn, but overjoyed at the same time, same with her father who is standing behind her. “Mom? Dad?” her voice croaks, heavy from not being used.

They nod, “Yes, honey, we’re right here.” Her mom blinks away tears.

“You’re in the hospital, sweetie.” Her dad continues, “You had an accident. Hit your head pretty hard,” he explains slowly, nodding to two nurses also in the room on the other side of her bed.

With his words, she suddenly feels the constricting bandages around her head, noticing their presence. She winces at their uncomfortable tug on her hair, and a spot on the back of her head. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Sabine asks, everyone leaning in expectedly for an answer to the question that had been obviously on their minds since the accident. 

Mari stares at the thin knit blanket covering her, trying to clear the fog still clouding her mind. “I-I don't remember,” she shakes her head an imperceptible amount.

The nurses and her parents all sigh silently. “Well, maybe it will come back to you.” Sabine adds hopefully, patting Mari’s hand. 

“How long... how long have I been here?” Mari asks, starting to process more of the hospital bedroom she’s in. The curtains are drawn over the windows that cover the wall to her left, adding to the displaced feeling she’s experiencing, not knowing what time of day it is. She twists her arm to follow the IV line to a fluids bag hung behind her and other monitoring equipment. 

“A week since some god-sent strangers heard you cry for help uptown and called you an ambulance. You sure you don’t remember that?” Sabine states. Tom puts a hand on her shoulder, holding her back from pushing the question back on her. 

Marinette shakes her head. “A week?”

One of the nurses clears his throat and steps forward, “You’ve been through a lot it seems. You’ve had quite a strong blow to your head, resulting in a few fractures and contusions which have been remedied. You’re quite lucky nothing too serious happened. I’m going to ask you some basic questions now, okay?” He picks up a clipboard on the end of her bed. 

She nods.

“Name?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng” she answers, her voice coming through a bit stronger. 

“Where were you born?”

“Paris, France”

“Date of birth and age?”

“July 9th, 2003 and 13,”

The nurse stops, his mouth set with a raised eyebrow. “Say your age again for me.”

Mari’s mouth turns down in confusion; looking to her parents for reassurance, they only stare at her, frightened.

She shifts in the bed under everyone's gaze. “13.” She tries to say confidently, in case that was the issue. 

“Marinette,” her mom whispers above the deafening silence that has fallen upon them, “honey, you’re 17,” 

Despite the fog in her mind Mari feels like she at least knows her age, a basic fact about herself. But why else would her parents be looking at her with such grief if what they’re saying isn't true? “No...” she trails off, trying to find the words to contradict them regardless, “we just celebrated my 13th last month... my second year of middle school starts soon, if I haven't missed it...” 

The look of grief returns to their faces. “You’re a junior in high school, Marinette.” Tom says carefully. 

Mari can feel a headache spread, trying to make sense of what's happening. She places her face in her hands, silent sobs making her lungs twitch. “I don’t- understand- what’s- happening-” she gasps between breaths. 

After a few more questions from the concerned nurse, it seems as if the past 4 years of her life have vanished from her memory. 

Mari keeps her hands folded in her lap to keep them from shaking anxiously. She figures this is what it would feel like to time travel. She couldn't argue with her reflection which surely showed an older version of her face than she was accustomed to; the tear stained, but mature face echoing in her mind. 

A neurological doctor is brought in and briefed on the turn of events. She checks over Mari’s charts and removes the bandages from her head to inspect the physical damage, declaring that at least those injuries are healed. “It is not uncommon for there to be prolonged confusion or memory loss following an accident like the one you went through. Your memories may very well come back tomorrow, or next week.” The doctor assures, glancing up at Marinette while writing on her chart. 

“So they will come back?” Sabine asks, glad that there is hope but would like a more firm answer.

The doctor pauses her work, looking at the family before her, “It is most likely they will,  _ but  _ all cases are different. Every mind is wired a bit differently, so I can make no promises, though I wish I could.” She says frankly that only an experienced doctor who has had to tell the hard truths to too many families just like the Dupain-Chengs. 

Deciding there is no need for further observance, the doctor clears Marinette to go home, wishing her the best as she moves on to the next patient.

Tom excuses himself to pull the car around and so Marinette can get dressed. The nurses free Marinette from the various equipment and monitors then issue the discharge papers and follow up notes before leaving the room as well. 

Sabine brings Mari a small stack of clothes, a pair of pj pants, a t- shirt, bra, and socks, simple comfortable clothes for the ride home. Mari feels her joints and muscles protest as she urges her limbs to move out of the depressions they’ve left in the mattress. She clenches her jaw, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, pulling back the blanket as well. 

Sabine’s hands hover nervously over her daughter, reaching to help with every escaped groan of exertion. 

“I’m fine,” she always responds to her mother’s grasping hands in the more reassuring tone she can manage, knowing she means well. Mari slips off the cotton hospital gown, slowly but surely dressing herself as her bones warm up and remember how to function. 

She slides on a pair of pink socks when her mother exclaims, “Oh, the nurses had to take off your earrings for the scans they did.” Sabine picks a pair of round black earrings out from her purse and holds them out for her to see. “I can put them back in for you,” she starts to undo one of the clasps.

Mari blinks at the innocuous earrings, “Uh, no, I’m good, thanks” she shrugs, more worried about getting dressed in some real clothes and getting home rather than worrying about accessories like earrings. 

Sabine nods understandably, putting them away.

‘ _ Earrings? _ ’ The thought bounces around in her head, ‘ _ Why would I have been wearing earrings when  _ whatever happened to me _ happened? _ ’ She ponders, never having been one for normally wearing earrings except for special occasions. But by how her mom brought them out, expectant, maybe she wore earrings more often now.

“Ready?” Sabine prompts, holding out both hands to help Mari to her feet. 

She nods, accepting the help. She gasps her mother’s hands and pushes with her legs into a standing position. Glad to not have immediately collapsed, she bends her knees, testing their sturdiness. Once satisfied, she releases one hand and takes a couple steps towards the door. Using her free hand for balance and only slightly relying on her mom’s hold, she makes a steady trail to the lobby and to the awaiting car. She blinks in the blinding light of the setting sun before sliding into the backseat of their car. 

The drive is quiet, everyone still processing the day’s events. 

Once home, Marinette feels comforted for the first time since waking up. Her home seems to not have changed much in the past four years; finally something familiar. 

“Why don’t you head up to your room and get comfortable.” Tom suggests, “We’ll make dinner and bring it up to you when it's ready.”

Mari shrugs at the base of the stairs up to her room, “It’s fine, I can come down and eat like normal” she insists, feeling almost back to full strength already. And laying in bed isn't going to bring back her memories. 

“If you're sure.” Sabine allows. “Oh, before you go up,” she pulls out the earrings and a cell phone, “Why don’t you go ahead and look through the pictures on your phone. See if you can recall anything, or recognize your friends. I’ll be giving them and the school notice of your return and of your... situation.” 

Mari palms the earrings in her left and turns the phone over in her other hand. It’s a new model than the one she thought she had, well the ones she had four years ago, but thankfully it slides open with the same password. ‘ _ Friends? _ ’ she wonders to herself, biting her tongue from asking it aloud. Marinette couldn't put a finger down on who these friends might be. Due to being the butt of Chloe’s everlasting ridicule and teasing since elementary school, most people avoided Marinette to remain out of Chloe’s ever-hateful range. No one ever stands up to the daughter of the mayor; no one she’s ever seen.

“Thanks, I’ll try,” she finally replies without the slightest insight as to what is waiting for her on her phone. 

She walks up the stairs, pushing open the hatch to her room and flicking on the light. Her gaze wanders around the familiar but foreign room. The large set pieces are all the same, but the decor is what makes it feel alien. 

Strewn about are designs and sketches that she  _ figures  _ must be her own. She actually takes a moment to admire how far along her talents have seemed to come, taking in the color swatches and details of sequin along the bodice of a dress. She smiles to herself, glad to find at least one thing she’s happy about realizing. 

But the other most prominent wall coverings did seem strange. Several photos of a blond boy plaster the wall above her desk. 

She does admire the fashion on the boy in the pictures. Noticing the watermarks on the pictures and recognizing the familiar style, she knows this is the work of Gabriel Agreste. Being one of her favorite designers, she figures it makes sense that she has a litany of his work displayed, for inspiration, she imagines. But why only this one boy? Agreste Fashion was never ones to stick with a single model for every shoot, that she can recall. Maybe it’s a new route they’ve taken these past few years. 

Dismissing these images, she settles onto her desk chair. She drops the earrings into a cup holding her pens and markers for safe keeping. On her desk, she leans forward on her elbows, hunching over her phone. Ignoring the apps she doesn't recognize for now, she opens the Photos folder, automatically pulling up the most recent pictures. 

A third of the images seem to be screenshots of inspiration for her designs, nice looking patterns and fashion from various sources. Another portion is pictures of food, trees, sunsets, and other simple but pleasing pictures. Finally, she makes herself look at the photos containing people, people she does not immediately recognize. 

After focusing on some, she recognizes some of her classmates: Rose, Nino, Alix, Juleka, Mylene; none of whom thought were her friends, but here she is photographed with them hanging out. One girl with glasses and ombre brown and orange hair is one of the most prominent people in here. Marinette and this girl have the most solo selfies together out of everyone. She doesn't remember this girl being in her class ever. Maybe she moved here within the past four years. 

And again, there are more pictures of that boy; screenshots from online articles, saved magazine covers litter her album. She’s about to scoff at her pre-accident-self when she comes upon a picture of him  _ with  _ her. It’s a group photo of herself, Nino, the new girl, and the blond boy, all hanging out in the park under a tree, smiling. 

‘ _ So he’s not just a model. I know him in real life? We’re friends? Isn't it weird that I have all these saved pictures of him? _ ’ She scrunches her nose. 

‘ _ Mom is going to call these people? I don't even know them, _ ’

~

At breakfast, Sabine informs Mari that some of her friends will be coming over after lunch today. When Marinette doesn't seem thrilled at this notion, Sabine puts a hand on her shoulder, “They’ve been worried sick about you ever since the accident, sweetie. And I’ve explained your memory troubles to them so there’s nothing to worry about” she soothes. 

~

\- DAY AFTER THE ACCIDENT -

Adrien jogs up to the door of the school after getting dropped off as usual. But as soon as he’s in the doors, a hand grabs him. He gasps as he’s pulled off to the side, behind a pillar, realizing it's Alya who has nabbed him. “What-” he starts but is frozen by the sight of Alya’s tear stained face and red eyes. He puts a hand on her shoulder, wanting to comfort her from whatever has caused her grief.

Her bottom lip trembles as she forces herself to speak coherently, “I-It’s Marinette-” she covers her mouth as a sob escapes. 

He feels his stomach drop, as if he’s plummeting down the first hill of a roller coaster. Fear. 

Alya clears her throat, composing herself again, “Her mom texted me, Marinette was in an accident last night.  _ Strangers  _ called her an ambulance. She’s in the ICU right now.” She sucks in a breath as if she wasn't breathing during her explanation. 

A slight panic rises in the back of his throat, “W-what, how, how did this happen?” He shakes his head, finding trouble processing this turn of events.

Alya shakes her head, “Nino and I are going to visit after school. You can join us if you-”

“I will.” He interjects.

Alya nods and swallows her tears, lifting her glasses to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m only telling a few close friends about this. I don’t want this news spreading unnecessarily.” She sniffs, eyeing the restroom across the hall to clean herself up more. 

Adrien agrees with this. But it only takes till lunch hour that half the school is buzzing with various stories about what happened to Marinette.

“I heard she got hit by a car” “No, she passed out on the sidewalk” “I think she saw something she shouldn't have” “She just needed an excuse to extend the due date for the history essay”

When Adrien wasn't feeling hollow and confused, he was irritated by these rumors that he overheard between classes. He needed the full, true story; something he’s hoping to get by visiting the hospital after school. ‘ _ Why didn't I see her? Why couldn't I have been there to prevent whatever happened? What use is being Chat Noir if I can’t even save my friends? _ ’ He berates himself, the irritation turning inwards as the day wears on.

Unfortunately, the trip to the hospital is not as enlightening as Adrien hoped. Adrien, Alya, and Nino all gather around the shut door of a private observation room. The thing window in the door as the only glimpse they get of their friend, who is unrecognizable under the bandages anyway. Only her parents are allowed inside the room, besides the various nurses and doctors coming and going. Marinette’s mom steps out to greet them, thankful that Marinette has such caring friends. 

She explains what she knows, or was told by the paramedics who picked her up late last night. Marinette suffered a hard blow to the head, while nothing else on her body seemed amiss. No broken bones or even that much bruising. There was no sign of a struggle or fight either. 

Alya offers to stay, just in case Marinette wakes up. Nino and Adrien do the same, waiting restlessly in stiff chairs outside her room. As the sun sets and the moon rises, Adrien resolves that he’ll explain his absence from patrol tonight to Ladybug tomorrow, knowing she’ll understand. Everyone clings to the hope that Mari will wake up tonight, but visiting hours end before this happens. 

With no updates during the next day of school, Sabine simply says she’ll text Alya when any new news, not wanting them to waste away in the hospital hallway another day. 

Adrien wants to protest, but knows it's for the best; being he’s already behind on homework and missed yesterday's patrol. He changes into Chat Noir early and perches on the roof of their usual meeting place, wanting to be extra-on-time to make up for yesterday.

While waiting, his mind strays to Marinette, looking off in the direction where Mrs. Dupain-Cheng said Mari was picked up. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to imagine what could have transpired right under his nose as Chat. He reminds himself to ask Ladybug if she saw anything suspicious the other night, anything he can use to put together this strange case. 

His eyes fly open, checking the time on his staff. 

He clicks it closed and opens the screen again, wondering if it’s really that late already. He searches the skyline for any familiar silhouettes, but spies none. He gets to his feet and opens his communicator, hoping to call Ladybug, but sees she's not online. He blinks in confusion at the dim icon on his screen, meaning her communicator is off or she’s not transformed yet, “Where are you...” he murmurs to himself. 

She’s only missed a handful of patrols during the last four years, and she usually told him ahead of time or left him a message explaining her absence. Was she mad at him for missing yesterday? Something like that has never come between them before, they generally understand each other when things come up in their civilian lives that can’t be avoided. 

He holds his communicator to his face to leave Ladybug a message, “Hey, I’m here for patrol. Sorry about yesterday, something came up; had to check on a friend... Anyway, I guess we just missed each other or something, or you had something come up, either way, I’ll be out and about for a bit tonight if you’re still coming. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hangs up before he can ramble any more. 

Trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something’s wrong that’s climbing up his spine, he vaults off across the city to do his rounds.

-

It ends up being days before Alya receives news, not helping Adrien’s ever rising anxiety over Marinette, and now Ladybug who seems to be M.I.A.. After a second night of no word from Ladybug, the nagging feeling was more like a constant cold sweat anytime he thought about her.

When the message from Sabine comes, they’re told Marinette has woken up and has returned home, which gives him only a brief relief. This tepid joy makes the additional catch even harder to bear. 

“apparently... she’s having some kind of amnesia” Alya texts their group chat a week after the accident. Adrien sits in in the dark of his room, only lit but the reflection of street lights off the low hanging clouds that have formed this evening. 

Amnesia. Something he’s only ever seen in movies and TV shows, not something that he ever thought he’d have to face in reality. 

“like she doesn't remember her name or who she is?” Nino replies. 

“no,, more like... she can't recall anything from the past 4 years,” Alya sends. 

Adrien curls up on his comforter, reading this last text a dozen times. He can only imagine what Alya is going through on her end of the conversation. If Marinette has really lost that much time, then she won’t remember Alya.

Then he feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, having his own realization. ‘ _ She won’t remember me either, _ ’ He only started going to public school less than four years ago. 

“mrs Dupain-cheng wants to know if we can go over there in the afternoon tomorrow.”

“of course! we can try and jog her memory I'm sure!” Nino seems to reply confidently. 

Adrien rolls onto his back and replies, “yeah we got to try. i’ll be there.” He hits send and lays this phone down on his chest, trying to imagine what Marinette must be going through right now, like being displaced in time overnight. 

~

The look on Alya’s face is the definition of ‘determined’, putting aside the light circles under her eyes that Adrien speculates is from a bad night’s sleep; or, she woke up early to prepare whatever is in the tote bag at her side. 

Adrien meets Alya and Nino on the steps of the bakery, all of them slightly anxious as they step into the bakery and are greeted by Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. “Thanks for coming, kids,” she says softly, accepting a hug from Alya.

“We want to help in any way we can,” Alya assures her, stepping back into line. 

She nods appreciatively, “Marinette is in the living room. I don’t want to overwhelm her so I’ll be in the room with you all at first. She is still mostly confused and adjusting to the present, so we have to be patient.”

“Of course.” Alya replies as the spokesperson of their group. 

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng leads the group to the living room where Marinette is sitting on the couch, sitting on her hands in an attempt to stop fidgeting. Her head whirls at the sound of their approach. Wide-eyed, she stares at the people she memorized from her photos yesterday night. Unconsciously she gives a nervous smile to Nino first, being the only familiar face. “Hello,” she greets carefully, standing from her seat.

Adrien didn't know what to expect, but somehow, he imagined that Marinette would look different from how she normally did before the accident. But no, now that she's out of the hospital, visually, she looks exactly how he remembered her. Maybe that makes it harder to believe there’s anything wrong with this situation. This could be a normal visit or weekend hangout; but it’s obviously not, as the weight of Marinette’s invisible condition hangs heavy on everyone in the room, including Marinette herself. 

Alya is the first to advance towards Mari, a bright smile on her face, if not a bit forced to hide her sadness upon seeing Marinette’s empty stare. “Marinette, it’s me Alya,” she says gently, kindly. “We met on the first day of 8th grade; I was the new kid and you’ve been my best friend ever since.” 

Mari nods thoughtfully, trying to process this information in a way that might bring back a memory. “Right, yes... um,”

Alya sits on the couch and pulls out a large scrapbook from her tote bag onto her lap. “Here. This might help,” she encourages. 

Mari takes a seat next to Alya, scanning the first page of the scrapbook. Adrien and Nino take a seat on the floor in front of the girls. 

“Hey, Marinette. I don't know if you remember me but I’m Nino, we did have a few classes together in elementary school,” Nino offers as he sits.

Mari’s shoulders relax for a split second, “Yes, I do remember you, Nino.” She smiles genuinely before naturally turning her attention to Adrien. 

He clears his throat, “I’m Adrien; we also met on the first day of 8th grade.” 

“You work for Agreste Fashion, right?” she asks, making everyone hold their breath.

“Yeah, my dad is actually Gabriel Agreste,” he says, him and everyone else hoping this has sparked a memory.

“Oh wow,” she replies, obviously surprised by this information, dashing everyone's hopes. “I’m a big fan of his work,” she shrugs, knowing it’s an off-topic comment. 

“I’ll let him know,” Adrien says kindly, knowing his father already knows of Marinette’s opinion of him.

“Here,” Alya directs everyone's attention back to the scrapbook. “These are all from 8th grade,” she flips through a half dozen pages of pictures and mementos from that year. She slides the book half onto Mari’s lap so they’re sharing its load.

It doesn't take long before Mari points at a newspaper clip of a girl in red polka-dots and a boy in black leather cat ears, “Who are they?”

Adrien keeps composed while Alya lights up. “Superheroes!” She says like the word is magic. “Paris has two superheroes that watch over us now: Ladybug and Chat Noir. And they fight Akumas and Hawkmoth and bad guys, it’s so cool!” She exclaims before reeling herself back in. 

“Superheroes?” Her mouth turns down at the corners, “Like from comic books?” She looks skeptically towards her mom hanging by the entryway. Sabine nods. “With super powers, and everything?” She nods again. Mari inhales sharply as something flashes by behind her eyelids- _ city lights, butterflies, green eyes _ \- but she shakes it away. “Okay then,” she resigns, still not fully convinced of these ‘superheroes’. 

The rest of the afternoon passes with Alya, Nino, and Adrien gathered around the scrapbook, recounting field trips, concerts, movie nights, almost all of which Alya has kept recorded in these pages. 

Marinette’s polite and stiff smiles start to loosen up, getting caught up in the banter and retellings between these people, whom she starts to imagine a time where she had been good friends with them. 

Everyone notices this gradual change; even Sabine excuses herself to work in the bakery and to let the kids reminisce on their own, seeing Mari grow comfortable in the company of people she considered mostly strangers just a few hours ago. 

Alya tries to prompt Marinette a few times, seeing if she remembers. “Yeah, and then we finally found where Andre was set up! Nino and I got coconut, banana and passion fruit, and you got...”

“Uh, um, I-I don’t...” She stammers, caught off guard and embarrassed despite knowing Alya means well.

Alya continues without lingering on the real issue, “-peach and mint, which is not usually the flavor profile I’d personally go for, but you know, it’s Andre, you can't say no.” She laughs, making everyone else laugh along. 

Too soon, the sun starts to set below the skyline. Sabine comes back up and offers dinner, but they all figure they better go home to their families. Alya slowly approaches Mari with outstretched arms, wanting to hug her but not sure if Mari is ready. 

Mari smiles at this gesture and pulls Alya in comfortingly. A silent sigh of relief rolls through Alya’s body. 

Alya and Nino leave together, leaving Adrien lingering in the doorframe. “I can tutor you, if you like. I can help make sure you’re up to date on what we’re currently learning” he offers, knowing that losing 4 years of school knowledge is probably not the best scenario this close to applying for university.

She keeps a good distance between them, she considers him the most ‘stranger-like’ out of their small group. He hasn't spoken up much, or at least not as much as Alya, but seems kind enough. “I think I’ll need it, if you’re really offering.” 

He nods, “After school Monday? We can meet in the library.” 

She smiles, “Works for me. Thanks” 

Returning her smile, he steps out of the room, leaving her alone. 

She lets out a pent-up sigh as if she’d been holding her breath the entire afternoon.

~

Another night. Waiting. 

Waiting for his Lady to appear, to explain where she’s been.

But she never comes; an unfortunate pattern that Chat is starting to come to terms with. Every night, he fights back the unthinkable scenarios as to what’s keeping Ladybug away. 

He can feel a numbness encroaching on his mind when he’s Chat. A numbness that still only shadows the worry and anxiety coloring his thoughts of Ladybug. Some nights he wishes the numbness would overtake him, maybe that would hold back the nightmares from shaking him awake at night. But that also feels like giving up, so he rather drown in his sorrows and deal with the consequences. 

~

School is not what she’s used to at all. On top of it being a completely different building as the middle school she last remembers attending, she feels the near constant stares of everyone in her grade weighing on her turned back. 

Word had gotten out. Whether it was overhearing Marinette’s teachers, who had to be told of the situation, or by just keeping their ears to the metaphorical grapevine, people knew of her memory loss to some degree before she even walked in the door. 

Luckily, Alya shares most classes with Marinette, and it only takes one glare from Alya to make people turn their attention and thoughts elsewhere. But Alya can’t stop everyone, nor can she stop Marinette’s anxiety from creeping up her spine with every passing minute. 

But surprisingly, she isn't totally lost in class. Only forgetting the most recent lessons while ones from earlier in the year seem to have been preserved. She realizes this when a teacher references an assigned reading from earlier in the year and Mari catches herself off guard by remembering the plot of it. The doctors said this might happen, being that memories are stored differently than things learned in school. 

She lets Adrien know this when she meets with him as planned. “So I’m not as behind as I thought I’d be, at least.” She shrugs, sitting across from Adrien in the mostly empty library. She keeps her gaze low, tired from being the center of attention, not just today but ever since she woke up. It’s not the attention itself that’s bothering her, it’s the implication behind each set of eyes and well-meaning smile. She feels it dragging her down. 

“That’s good!” He tries to bring her out of her despondent mood. “How about we go through each of your syllabuses and mark what lessons you need review for.”

A half smile pulls at her lips as she pulls out a folder, taking out the syllabuses for each class. She realizes how contagious his smile really is, unknown to her that his own fears regarding Ladybug’s disappearance occupies the background of each of his thoughts. 

He, as Chat, has considered telling the news station, anyone, even Alya and the Ladyblog, of Ladybug’s sudden disappearance. Maybe getting word out that he’s worried about her will get her attention, or at least get more eyes looking for her in more worse case scenarios. 

But that would also mean alerting Hawkmoth to her absence, informing him that Chat is alone. He’s been lucky so far with no Akuma attacks since her disappearance, but he can feel his luck running thin, as it tends to do.

In the end, he figures that even if he can't find Ladybug right now, he can at least help his friend Marinette; that much he knows is concrete, that he was making a difference. As opposed to his alter ego who feels lost, drowning in waves of uncertainty. 

~

This continues the rest of the week. Each day after school, Adrien and Marinette focus on a different class and set of lessons for a few hours. Marinette is relieved that even the content she believes she forgot is easily picked back up. And even faster than that, she becomes completely comfortable in Adrien’s presence. Any awkwardness or apprehension that Adrien had felt about being around Marinette without her memories also vanishes as he senses her ease with him.

He almost feels guilty when he’s around Marinette because of this. When he’s with her, his stress over where Ladybug has gone fades into the background of his mind, instead of the forefront where it resides the rest of the day. He tries to tell himself that he deserves some respite, but deep down he almost believes that if his mind strays too far from his goal of finding Ladybug, he’ll never see her again. 

~

By that Friday, her and Adrien actually spend most of their tutor session chatting. She asks him about being a model, and he asks about her designs. Her eyes widen, “Oh, right, I’m still not used to people knowing things about me that I don't remember telling them,” 

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to-” he leans across the table to her.

She shakes her head, “Don’t be, it's fine. Just something I have to get used to,” 

Adrien hesitates to respond, but it comes out compulsively, “So you still really can't remember anything?” He bites his tongue, knowing it’s an intrusive question.

She shrugs, seemingly not bothered, “I’m actually glad you asked. It seems like that's all everyone wants to ask me. It’s refreshing for someone to actually say it.” A kind of sad smile crosses her face.

“I’m sorry,” he lowers his eyes, guilty. 

“It’s really fine.” She scoots her chair in closer to the table, continuing in a softer voice, “It just feels like you have lower expectations of me. That sounds bad, I don’t mean...” her worried gaze meets his kind and patient face, “It’s just that Alya still looks at me expectantly, just waiting for things to click back together in my brain. Everyone does this, it's not just her. They're all waiting. And I just feel like I’m letting everyone down constantly. But you’re not really like that.” 

Almost unaware that this is the perception he gives off; this could be due to his divided worry between her and Ladybug- both occupying his mind nearly 24/7. It also surprises him how much mental strain Marinette is going through, and that he has become a safe harbor. “I’m just here to help. I’m sorry you’re experiencing that. It seems rough.” 

She shrugs, going back to his question, “It’s like trying to remember something from when you were really young. Your parents will ask ‘oh do you remember _ this thing _ from when you were five?’ and you want to say yes because you can almost picture it, but you don’t know if it's an actual memory or you just imagining the scenario? I see these  _ glimpses _ , but I don’t know if they’re real or if I just made them up based off the stories my parents, or Alya and Nino and you were telling me,” 

“I see,”

She pulls her hands off the table and onto her lap, “I just feel so guilty all the time- that I’m not who I used to be,” 

“This isn’t your fault” he says firmly.

“No one knows that.  _ I _ don't know that. No one knows what happened to me that caused this” Her eyes start to get glassy, blinking away any excess tears. 

Adrien immediately stands and moves to sit next to her on her side of the table, his body turned towards her. “Things will only get better, whether or not your memories return. You’re still you.” He places a hand on her shoulder and rubs it soothingly.

After a moment, she nods reluctantly, no new tears forming. “Thanks,” She sniffles. “I need you- I need you to just, can I ask you a dumb question? It’s about a glimpse I had.” 

He leans on the table and nods, “Of course. And it’s not dumb.” 

She concedes on that note, “When Alya said we all went on a field trip to the Eiffel Tower, was it at night?” 

“What do you mean?” He asks for clarification, not a single ounce of judgment in his tone. 

She shrugs. “I mean- did we go up the tower at night? Like an after-school field trip?” 

He knows which trip she's referring to, the one Alya had tickets for in her scrapbook, freshmen year. “No, it was during school hours”

When her eyes narrow in thought, he prods, “Why? What do you remember?”

She stays concentrated, staring at the grain in the wooden table they're at. “I keep getting this one  _ glimpse _ , but it feels more like a dream now that I think about it. It’s me, on top of the Eiffel Tower, looking over Paris at night.” She can see the gleaming lights of the city almost echoing the stars above. “If it is real, why would I be up there at night?”

Adrien knows this view; it's one he usually tries to visit once per patrol. And every time he looks over this city, it does feel like a dream sometimes, on those perfect nights. He can’t recall a reason why Marinette would have this memory, at least from what he knows of her life. “I’m not sure, but this could be good! It could be that you’re remembering things that you haven't been prompted to.”

“I guess,” she resolves, though her actual outlook is a bit less optimistic. Rather than losing her memories, she worries that her sanity might not be far behind. 

He can see a hint of this in her eyes. “You know I’m here for you- everyone is.” He amends. When she doesn't respond he clears his throat, “Well, tomorrow? Same time?”

Mari bites her tongue as new images flash behind her eyelids, blinding her-  _ the park at night, someone shrouded in shadow next to her, a voice: ‘Tomorrow? Same time?’ _ . 

She clenches her jaw, making sure nothing shows on her face. There aren’t glimpses, they must be delusions, Mari reprimands herself, her stomach turning. She nods wordlessly before quickly gathering her things and sliding out of her seat away from Adrien. 

“Marinette?” he calls after her, but she's already crossing the library’s threshold. He moves without thinking, chasing after her, worried he said something wrong. 

He turns the corner out of the library and out the front doors just in time to see her get snatched. A net scoops Marinette off the sidewalk, making her scream. The dangles under a pink cloud hovering 40 feet off the ground, and sitting on top is an akumatized girl. Her pink, crossed legs dangle over the side of the cloud, smirking at her catch. Her long blonde hair is only countered by the pink pig ears poking out, matching a cute pig nose adorning her face. 

“What is happening?! Who are you!?!” Marinette yelps, turning herself over within the net so she’s upright. 

“I’m Attention Hog” she says haughty, “You, and a few others, have been stealing my spotlight at school for too long. So I must remove you from the equation.”

Immense confusion twists Marinette’s face before she continues to scream for help. 

Adrien immediately runs back inside the school and into a closet to transform. He recognizes this girl as someone in their grade who could be considered the stereotypical ‘popular girl’: pretty, loves attention. 

‘ _ Ladybug, if there was ever a chance to come back, now's the time _ ’ he mentally prays, emerging on the street as Chat Noir. He launches himself in the direction Attention Hog last went. He can only imagine how scared Marinette must be, having never, in memory, seen an Akuma in action until now. 

He keeps his peripheral vision open, hoping to catch a blur of red and black. He knicks a light post after seeing a girl in a red coat running below, sending him face-first towards the sidewalk before catching himself.

The clear call of Marinette’s voice clears his mind; realizing he can’t let his focus stray as to whether or not Ladybug is coming. Marinette needs him.

He rounds the corner to see Attention Hog as caught two more people. He hopes he can release them all before he finds out what she plans to do with her victims. 

Leaping onto a rooftop to have the high ground, he calls down to her, “Isn't this quite the  _ pig _ culiar sight. I’m gonna ask you nicely to release those people- they’re probably  _ boar _ -ed down there.” 

Unamused, Attention Hog grimaces, “Chat Noir. You’re the only person I didn't want the attention of; well, you and Ladybug.” She pulls her phone out and points it at him, causing a net to shoot out from the cloud. 

Barely out maneuvering the incoming net, he flips back onto his feet. Figuring the Akuma is in her phone, he formulates more-or-less of a plan. 

When she seems distracted by her next victim, he slides down the side of the building and leaps onto the swinging nets below the cloud. He grasps the rope that comprises the individual nets, all of them swinging from the momentum. 

As he catches his breath, he realizes he is in fact hanging from the net of a wide-eyed Marinette. “Y-you’re, you’re that hero. Chat Noir.” She breathes out, still clinging to the inside of the net to obtain any sense of stability. “You really are real,”

He chuckles light heartedly, “Thanks for noticing”. Turning serious again, he swears, “I’ll get you out of here soon.” 

Mari nods in slight awe of this boy before her, because that's what he is: a boy. When Alya had told her about these heroes that protect Paris, she wasn't imagining the person with that amount of weight on their shoulders to be no older than herself, seemingly. 

His muscles coil, preparing to pounce up through the cloud above him, hoping it’s as airy as it seems. Chat thrusts himself upwards into the cloud and emerges topside, much to the surprise of Attention Hog. She squeals when Chat uses his baton to knock her phone out of her hand. He catches it and crushes it using cataclysm, destroying the Akuma as well. 

The facade of ‘Attention Hog’ melts away; the cloud, the nets, all disappear, leaving the Akumatized girl and her captives falling to the street. 

Chat mentally yells at himself for not remembering the lack of a ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ to clean up after his actions. 

Thinking quick, he throws his staff which extends and catches itself, spanning the width of the street. “Grab hold!”

Everyone manages to get a hold of his staff, securing themselves for just long enough for Chat to reach the ground. 

One by one, he instructs them to let go and he catches them, finishing with Marinette. She lets herself go and falls perfectly into his arms. He looks down at her and smiles.

She reflexively squeezes her eyes shut as a new onslaught of images flash in her mind. All of the flashes seem to be at different times and locations, but all of them have one thing in common: Chat smiling at her. 

Her eyes open, “Have we... met before?” She asks curiously. 

Chat puts on a surprised face, careful to not reveal he knows more than he knows about her situation. “Yes, a few times.” He sets her down. 

She blushes, “Oh, sorry. I- I kinda lost my memory so I don't remember us meeting... or, I thought I didn’t,” she averts her gaze which has been fixated on him. 

“You thought?” Chat presses, suddenly intrigued by even this little amount of uncertainty in her voice. 

She shrugs, “I get these  _ flashes  _ of images that  _ may  _ be memories?” She admits, already trusting this boy she consciously barely knows, but something deeper compels her. “And I just... I just had one of  _ you _ . Of your face,” she clears her throat, “I know that sounds weird, it’s probably nothing, you probably have places to be, I’ve got to get home too,” she turns towards home, hiding her reddening face as she quickens her pace towards home.

“Wait-” he calls after her but to no avail, letting her walk away. 

‘ _ She remembers me, kind of, _ ’ he congratulates himself on the way back to the school to pick up his things. ‘ _ Those glimpses really are her memories coming back _ ’. This small victory temporarily overshadows his very conscious train of thoughts, fighting for his attention: ‘ _ Ladybug didn't show up. Is she even in Paris anymore? She wouldn't just leave Paris without saying something. Does that mean she’s in trouble? _ ’ 

Arriving back home with the late afternoon light streaming through his windows, he flops onto his bed. After only a minute or so of scrolling through social media he realizes that the cat, or in this case, the Ladybug is out of the bag. The news and The Ladyblog covered the Attention Hog fight, and all the comments consist of:  _ Where was Ladybug? Why didn't Ladybug come help? Are Ladybug and Chat Noir fighting? Why was Chat Noir alone? She’s never missed a fight before. _

Everyone knows now, including Hawkmoth, if he didn't know already; if he's not the reason for her disappearance in the first place. ‘ _ Should I admit it now? To everyone? That she’s missing? I don’t think I can find her alone. _ ’ With her being The Guardian, what does this mean for the future of the Miraculous?

“Plagg?” He groans, tossing his phone on the table. 

The Kwami emerges, seemingly just as tired as Adrien, “Yeah?”

He stares out at the city, the lights just starting to turn on as night rolls in. “We can’t do this without her forever.”

“I know.”

He stands suddenly, leaning forwards against the glass, “She would have told me. She would have told me if she had to leave, or, or, step away for some reason! Message me on our communicator, leave a message taped to the top of the Eiffel Tower,  _ something _ ! So she  _ must  _ be in trouble!” He smacks the glass, the wall he built to hold back his worries and fears crumbles. “Hawkmoth  _ must  _ have found her then sent this Akuma today to show Paris that they’re vulnerable, that  _ Ladybug is gone _ !” These last words tear from his throat, leaving a desperate hopelessness dripping from his lips. 

Plagg flies in to try and catch Adrien’s eye, “Hey, hey, hey bud. We don’t know that for sure.” He attempts to soothe Adrien, something that he’s never had to do before. “M-maybe she caught the flu unexpectedly, I don’t know. I am just as worried as you are, but let’s not jump to any conclusions.” 

Adrien refuses to look at his Kwami. “Do you know anything you’re not telling me?”

Plagg’s ear flatten, not wanting to lie with Adrien in this state. “I, uh, can sense other Kwamis when they’re... activated. I don’t know where they are but I can feel they’re around. So usually, I can sense Ladybug and Hawkmoth’s Kwamis constantly. Until... about a week and a half ago...”

“What?”

He sighs, “I couldn’t feel Ladybug’s Kwami anymore. Meaning, Ladybug is not wearing her Miraculous.” 

“What?! How could you keep this from me?” He snaps, clutching his head and starting to pace.

“Ladybugs take breaks all the time. Especially when they’re Guardians too. I didn't want to worry you for no reason.” 

Adrien shakes his head, “No! This proves that something happened to her, that Hawkmoth got her! And took her Miraculous!” He marches back up to Plagg floating by the window, “When  _ exactly  _ did you feel her Kwami disappear?” 

He shakes his head, trying to remember, “2 weeks ago? Middle of the night? You were already asleep” 

2 weeks ago, that was the last night he saw her. Her last words have been buzzing around his heart since then, but now they carry new weight and meaning: ‘ _ I’ll see you tomorrow, not that I'm something to look forward to. _ ’ 

“There’s nothing we can do till tomorrow, Adrien.”

He knows Plagg’s right. No use in confirming to Paris that their heroine is missing, and even  _ Chat Noir _ doesn't know where she’s gone, at this hour. The burden would stay on his shoulders till morning. But that doesn't mean he can sit here and do nothing.

“Claws out.” He mumbles. 

Performing the same patrol he has been doing these past two weeks, he takes extra care scanning the streets and rooftops for any sign of what happened to Ladybug. 

This takes him twice as long as a normal patrol but he can’t leave anything to chance anymore. 

He wraps up on the north side of Paris with nothing to show for it. He considers doing another lap around when he spies Marinette out on her balcony, leaning against the railing. Recalling their awkward parting from earlier, he leaps from the next-door roof. “May I join you?” Chat perches on the corner of the railing, leaving a good 10 feet between them.

She jumps at his voice, having not heard him land. 

“Sorry,” he ducks his head.

She scrutinizes him in a confused manner. “Is this a normal thing you do? Visit Parisians in the middle of the night?” 

“Only the ones I like,” he snarks, jumping off the railing onto the balcony but keeps his set distance. “What cha’ doing out here?”

Her face doesn't change. “Earlier, you said we’ve met ‘a few times’. Were they all like this, or like the attacks? The Akumas?” 

He shrugs, “Bit of both. You’ve actually helped me out in a few Akuma attacks, too. But I’ve gathered that you’re usually only out here when somethings on your mind.”

She half chuckles to herself, “More like what’s  _ not  _ on my mind. But yeah, I don’t know,” she trails off, feeling that familiar comfort roll over her from Chat’s presence. “Is it true then? That your partner is missing? Ladybug? It's all my friend has been texting me about since this afternoon.” She attempts to change the subject to something more light hearted, but by the look on Chat’s face, she realizes she might have misstepped. 

His face falls, unprepared to face the truth dead on, point-blank. “I... she...” he clears his throat, trying to sound professional but failing, “I don’t know where she is.” His voice breaks on the last syllable. 

Marinette walks slowly towards him, “I’m sorry. How long has she been gone?” 

“Two weeks”

“How long have you worked together?” She stands catty-corner to him, leaning back on the railing. 

“Four years.”

She nods thoughtfully, “You two must have been close.” 

“Which is why it worries me that she’s seemingly vanished.” He admits. With Marinette having no real memory of him and Ladybug, it’s somehow easier to confess this loss to her. He figures it will be good practice for when he actually has to tell the news station about his shortcoming. “It was my job to protect her.” 

She shakes her head ever so slightly, “I’m sorry” she reflexively repeats. “It’s not your fault; things happen that are out of our control all the time.” She stares out at the city over Chat’s shoulder. 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, “I know. But I still should have been there.” 

Her dazed gaze stays fixed on the horizon, feeling that she’s fallen into mental-quicksand. 

Chat notices her blank face and thousand-yard stare. “Marinette?” He shifts his weight, trying to catch her eye. “Marinette?” He asks with a bit more concern. When she doesn't respond, he closes the space between them, taking her right hand in his. 

This cool, leather covered hand in hers, snaps her out of her daze but triggers another rush of confusing, jumbled images. She squeezes her eyes shut, her brow straining. Chat holds her hand tighter, having an idea of that might be happening, and wanting to help her through it. 

What she sees are more flashes of Chat Noir: running with him, laughing with him, sitting with him, his hand holding hers. Dozens of images and clips of her by his side. These have been the most intense glimpses she’s experienced so far, so vivid compared to the mundane ones she’d also been getting several times a day of school and friends and family. These flashes come with a flood of accompanying emotions, ranging from vulnerable to inspired, from compassion to fear. These old emotions overwhelm her, knowing this is how she felt for Chat and she can see the same emotions reflected in his eyes in each memory. 

She inhales sharply as her eyes fly open to stare at her hand in his, subconsciously aware that something is wrong with this picture. 

“What are you? Who are you to me?” She sputters.

He straightens up, “I... don't understand?”

“I think we’ve met more than ‘a few times’.” She slides her hand from his, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Chat’s mouth hangs slightly agape, “I-I, I don't know? I don’t think so? I’ve met you here, and during a handful of Akuma fights, that’s all.” He defends, wondering that she had seen. 

For a moment, Marinette considers the possibility that she  _ is _ losing her mind and these aren't memories, but she doesn't believe that her mind is capable of making  _ all  _ of this up, not to this degree. She shakes her head, “No, that can’t be it. I have...  _ memories _ , of you, too many to count. Don’t lie to me,” she almost begs. 

Chat shakes his head, lost, “I’m not... I don’t think I am,” his own doubt starts to tickle into his psyche. “Can you tell me what you saw? I want to help.”

His pleading gaze persuades her. She sighs and takes a seat on the padded bench beside her, holding her head in her hands. “I saw  _ you _ . You looking at me in a hundred different scenes; looking at me like... like I’m more than just an occasional passerby.” Her brow furrows, not wanting to assume anything without Chat confirming. But at this rate she's not sure he’ll be doing any of that. She closes her eyes, conjuring up a specific memory, “I’m running after you, I feel... light, lighter than air. It’s blurry, I can’t tell where we’re going. Then you stop. And reach out your hand. And I...”

Opening her eyes, she finds herself extending her hand towards Chat, who is patiently watching her. 

Her eyes stay on her frozen right hand, suspended, reaching. 

_ It’s wrong _ .  _ This image is wrong _ . 

“It’s wrong-” she whispers to herself. Chat attempts to speak up but stops himself when Marinette closes her eyes again. 

Her breathing slows as she concentrates on the memory, focusing on the details. Her memory surroundings are still cloudy, but Chat is defined. Is it him? Is he what’s wrong?

No.

She pulls her attention away from Chat, frozen in her mindscape, and looks at her hand.

Red with black spots.

Everything she’s learned from the past two weeks starts to fall into place. How she doesn't remember the past 4 years, only a time  _ before  _ super heroes came to Paris. Why she was found alone in an alley; leading to the reason why Ladybug has been missing the same amount of time since her accident. 

Her eyes open, staring at her bare hand, she whispers “Do you know who your Ladybug is behind the mask?” 

Chat blinks at this sudden U-turn in the conversation. “Um, no..? Are you okay? What’s ‘wrong’? What do you mean?” His concern leaks through his words. 

She doesn't hear him fret, keeping her eyes down. If she’s right about her hunch, she realizes their seemingly secret identities will be broken. ‘ _ It must be an important rule if we’ve gone this long without telling each other. But I  _ need  _ to know if I’m right... _ ’ 

Barely audible, she ventures, “I think I’m her.”

Chat stands in silence for a beat, “Wh-what? I don’t understand,” he pleads. He kneels before her and takes her outstretched hand in both of his. 

Finally, she stares into his eyes, “I think I’m Ladybug!” She expresses, shocked by her own voice saying it aloud. 

His eyes widen, but is able to control his expression carefully otherwise. ‘ _ Could it be true? _ ’ He considers, noting that the timing  _ does  _ line up perfectly. At this moment, he wants nothing more than to find Ladybug, and if Marinette really is her, that would be his own personal miracle. 

But he can’t be sure, no matter how willing he is to accept her. During this past minute of silence following her assertion, Mari’s face has fallen slightly at Chat’s lack of immediate response. Chat takes a steadying breath, and brushes her hair behind her ear with his fingers, adding another nail in the coffin: “You normally wear earrings, Marinette.” He states as fact, with his heart now in his throat. “Do you know where they are?” 

She doesn’t move from her spot right away, with Chat’s hand lingering on her cheek. She’s thrown off by this seemingly random change of topics. She touches her empty earlobe, recalling the earrings her mom returned to her after recovering from her accident. “I think so,”

Chat feels like he’s holding his breath with anticipation, “Can you find them for me, Princess?” A tinge of hope colors his features as he smiles encouragingly.

She blinks at this pet-name, but does as requested. She stands, carefully side-stepping between the bench and Chat. She climbs down to her room, pouring out the vessel she remembers tossing them in, and returns with them cupped in her hand. She holds them out for Chat to inspect as she sits back down in front of him. 

After seeing these earrings, in retrospect, Chat realizes how oblivious he was until this moment. Even though the earrings are black in their dormant/ disguised state, he should have known what he was looking for, knowing how his own Miraculous changes appearances in and out of transformation. All his worry and frustrations over the past couple weeks dissolve, only mentally kicking himself for not realizing sooner.

The curious look on Marinette’s face draws him back. With his heart thrumming in his chest, he asks softly “Can you put them on?” 

Her brow deepens but does as she’s asked. She lines them up and attaches the backings. Once secure, she turns back to Chat to ask the meaning of this, but is stopped by a blinding flash of light from the earrings. She flails and falls back on the bench seat, catching herself on her elbows and holding in a scream, knowing her parents might hear her. 

When the light fades, a floating, red, being hovers over her; it’s face is a mix of happiness and shock. “Marinette! Where have you been?!” The creature zooms in close to her and nuzzles against her cheek, only stopping after Marinette seems to be recoiling. “What’s wrong?” Tikki squeaks, taking in the fear in her Chosen’s eyes that dart between her and Chat.

Tikki finally turns and notices Chat’s presence, “Oh!” She exclaims, realizing Mari’s identity is blown.

Chat wants nothing more than to throw his arms around Marinette and express how much he missed her, but also noticing Marinette’s reaction to her Kwami, he holds back. “Tikki,” he calls her to his side to give Mari some space.

She floats dejectedly to him, “What’s happening?”

He looks past the Kwami to Marinette who is straightening herself up on the seat, still confused. He smiles warmly, “You were right, you are Ladybug.” He scratches under Tikki’s chin, “And this is your Kwami, Tikki. She grants you the power to become Ladybug.”

“Oh?” She feels slight pride in figuring out a piece of her past, but didn't realize it came with a floating companion. She turns her gaze to Tikki, “Sorry, I was just startled...”

Chat tilts his head to Tikki, “Marinette lost her memory, four years worth, after some kind of accident two weeks ago.” He explains.

Her antennae stand on end, “The accident! Of course!” 

“Do you know what happened to me?” Mari chimes in, growing comfortable with this novel creature. 

“We were heading home after an Akuma fight as Ladybug, when the section of roof overhang we were standing on broke,” she looks away from her, “You fell a long way,” 

Marinette listens intently, taking in everything, while Chat’s face contorts into despair listening to this recount of events.

“You managed to snag your yo-yo to start pulling yourself up, but it was too late. Your head hit the ground. You fell into the back of an alleyway. You were unconscious when you detransformed, you couldn't hear me, and there was a lot of blood.” Tikki seems to close her eyes against the memory of the image of her Chosen, broken on the ground. “I couldn’t get you out of there by myself so I called out to people on the sidewalk to help you, and luckily they did.” 

Chat moves to the railing and looks out at the city to hide his tormented face. 

Marinette reaches out for Tikki, cupping her in her hands, “Then you’re why I’m alive today,” she says gratefully, “I’m sorry I forgot you.”

She nestles in her hands, “Well, now that I’m back, I should be able to help restore your memories. As a Miraculous holder, I can help you heal.” 

Mari gasps, “Really?! Thank you,” she says, relieved. She kisses the top of Tikki’s head. 

Chat’s ears perk up to his but he doesn't turn around.

“Do you want to change into Ladybug? You’ll find that muscle memory stays intact fairly well, I think.” Tikki chimes, the hopefulness radiating between them encourages Marinette.

“Sure, I guess. How do I...?”

“Say: ‘Spots On!’” Tikki enthuses.

Sher musters up as much confidence as she can find, “Spots on!” she chants. 

Engulfed in a similar burst of light from before, she jumps to her feet and emerges as Ladybug. 

She runs her hands down her arms and hips, exploring the suit, her one hand catching on her yo-yo. Looking down at herself she whispers, “wow” in a stunned and incredulous way. When she looks back up, Chat is watching her from the corner of his eye. She can feel that the air around him has shifted. She strides next to him leaning on the railing, “I still mean what I said earlier, that what happened to me isn't your fault.” She says seriously, but cracks a smile “It sounds like I was being clumsy, which sounds very like me.”

He doesn't respond to her attempt to turn the mood. “I’m sorry.” He vows, bowing his head slightly in her direction, in shame.

“You saved me too though, and not just today from the Akuma.” He raises a dubious eyebrow. “My memories of you are  _ pretty  _ strong, more so than anything else I’ve remembered so far. Without you, I wouldn't have realized I was Ladybug; and Tikki would’ve been stuck in these earrings forever.” She exaggerates in an attempt to lighten the mood again. 

He sighs deeply.

She purses her lips in thought and tries another way. “I forgive you, Chat Noir.” She says formally, “I know you feel bad for not being there for Ladybug,  _ for me _ , but I forgive you. I’ll even get it in writing if that’s what you need”

He cracks a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes, “Make sure it’s notarized” he jokes halfheartedly, but his shell has been broken. 

She puts a hand on his shoulder, “Will do,” she says caringly. 

Chat turns to face her, his arms open and awkward. “Can I just...?” He stoops down and approaches her slowly, ready to back off at her word, but she lets him in, wrapping her own arms around his shoulders as he hugs her so tightly she feels her feet leaving the ground. 

His face buries in her shoulder, “I just missed you so much, I was so worried,” he breathes out intensely, “I’m just so happy you’re okay,” 

Tears prick at her eyes from this empathetic surge of emotion, taking in every pained syllable. “I’m here, I’m fine,” she coos soothingly, rubbing his back. 

After a moment, his arms relax but still hold her close. In a clear voice, barely above a whisper, he confides, “I love you”

Her heart stops. But she can feel in the way he says it, that he does not need her to say it back, that this is simply something he needed to say for himself, to justify how he’s felt these past two weeks. 

In her flurry of memories of Chat, she can tell some of them are colored in this same emotion, giving off the impression of a matching intensity equal to Chat’s profession. So intense, that she catches herself nearly echoing him, her lips almost forming the words without conscious consent. There is precedent for this feeling towards Chat, but she’s not ready to admit that, not yet.

So she just nods, accepting his words without resistance. “I know” she validates, “I know,” she closes her eyes as the two of them live in the moment.

Chat wishes he could form sentences to explain how deep his feelings run, how he’s always felt towards her, as Ladybug and Marinette; but he can't, not now. Right now all he can manage is to hold her in his arms, hoping some of his thoughts translate nonverbally. 

\- 2 Weeks Later -

Marinette’s accident seems like a distant blip considering the grand passage of time. Now with her memories fully restored, everyone, including Marinette herself, returned to life as if it never happened. 

All except Adrien, who, in an attempt to get closer to Marinette, noticed as her memories returned, she also returned to being awkward around him. Dismayed by this turn of events, it doesn't help with his plans to tell her his own identity soon. Her being so put out by ‘Adrien’ doesn’t lend itself to his imagined-ideal outcome of him telling her who he is. 

One day on his way to lunch, Alya pulls him aside, grabbing a strap on his bag and towing him to an adjacent hallway. “Okay, you’ve got to tell me what you’re up to.” She confronts. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks genuinely.

Her eyes narrow, “You think I haven’t noticed your dazed looks towards Marinette lately? Whenever you have the chance, you’re by her side.” She pokes him in the arm, “You’re coming on a bit strong, for you at least.” She smirks.

‘ _ Was it that obvious? _ ’ He worries.

He exaggerates a shrug, “I just... want to be better friends with her, like how she is with you.” 

‘ _ Yeah, friends. Ignoring that you admitted you loved her as Chat _ ’

He shakes away the thought, “Alya, can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah?” One of her eyebrows quirk up.

“Is... is she uncomfortable around me? I don’t want her to be, but I don’t know how to help her from feeling that way. I can back off if she wants me to,” He rambles, his thoughts cascading while Alya seems to be suppressing a smile.

She shakes her head, “No, she’s not ‘uncomfortable’... more like ‘nervous’.”

“Nervous?!” He exclaims, not seeing how that’s better than ‘uncomfortable’. 

She clicks her tongue, “No, not ‘nervous’ in a bad way, in a... good way.”

“Good way? How-?” 

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “don’t act like you haven't been a bit ‘nervous’ around her too lately.” She teases with a knowing smile.

He pushes his shoulders back, “Have I?” He asks, reviewing his recent behavior in his mind. Maybe he’s tripped up on some of his words around her..?

The bell rings and Alya pats his shoulder walking past him to her next class, “You two will figure it out someday,” she says wistfully, jokingly, leaving Adrien alone in the hall. 

He stands there until the slamming of classroom doors cease, leaving only the distant muffled voices of teachers to penetrate the silence. Adrien starts to pace the halls, ducking past classroom windows and the wandering eyes of bored students inside them. 

Pondering Alya’s last comment, he thinks back on his most recent interaction with Marinette and their other friends. It was just this morning before class, but now that he thinks of it, he can’t remember some of the people in that conversation. He knows he was next to Mari, who was next to Alya and Nino, and maybe Alix was there? Rose? He can only clearly recall some things that Marinette said or did, lingering on spikes of  _ nervousness  _ whenever she’d look in his direction. 

It seems that whenever he’s been around Marinette, his attention is focused on her, and to a much lesser extent the people around them, and least of all his own actions and, according to Alya, his  _ nervousness _ .

Was she implying that the reason behind their common reaction to each other also had the same underlying cause? 

~

He’d been insisting to Ladybug that she should take it slow during patrols and fights, but she wouldn’t have it. Tikki was right about her Ladybug muscle memory; it didn't take long for her to fall right back into her role as superheroine. 

Chat finally catches up to her at the end of their patrol. She’s stopped on the roof of a tall building overlooking the Eiffel Tower when Chat lands next to her. As she takes in the view, he only has eyes for her. “I think everything’s back now- all of my memories- thanks to Tikki” She says casually, filling the soft silence between them.

Ladybug has noticed Chat acting differently around her since that night on her balcony. She tries to bite back the thought that he’s uneasy from finding out her identity, but it’s hard to ignore. He’s more subdued, not as openly flirtatious; which was at an all-time high before the accident. See notices his gaze lingering on her, but he’s careful to not be so forward. He said he loved her, but maybe that was just an in-the-moment feeling. 

His head perks up a little, “I’m glad to hear” he enthuses. “So it’s like everything is back to normal now.” 

She nods hesitantly, “R-right, back to normal,” she says but wonders what version of ‘normal’ they’re currently playing out. This strange distancing by Chat has never been ‘normal’. “I mean, we can’t be totally back to how we were. You  _ do _ know my identity now-” she shrugs, “That must change things for you... for us? Our partnership, I mean.” She pulls on a strand of her hair in her pigtails anxiously. 

His heart speeds up as he puts in effort to not react naturally, “It doesn't have to, if you don’t want it to,” he says almost robotically, rehearsed. 

She turns to him, finally focusing on his face for the first time tonight. His attempted, neutral face is strained at the edges. “I don’t see how we can ignore it.” She says honestly, starting to turn weary of this response of his. 

He can see this in her face; and this is not the response he was expecting to hear from her. He was used to Ladybug always wanting to do things by the rules, keeping the status quo of their partnership. He imagined she’d be wishing that he would forget her identity, even though he knows he’ll never be able to separate Ladybug and Marinette in his mind ever again. 

“Chat, please,” she entreats, “I know that this has made things weird between us. You know who I am. Nothing can change that. If it takes time for us to adjust to this, that's fine. Let’s just acknowledge it so we can move on.” She shakes her head, getting a little flustered at the end.

“I can’t.” 

Her breath catches, staring at him until he explains.

His eyes drift to her hand at her side, wanting to reach out, needing a connection to keep him grounded. “I meant what I said, that night of the accident. You  _ are  _ someone to look forward to; someone  _ I _ look forward to seeing every day. And this only became  _ more  _ true once I found out who you are.” 

Ladybug closes the gap to his half-outstretched hand. “I... but you’ve been so quiet around me lately- I thought-”

“Flirting expressed how I felt before, a...  _ childish  _ response to what I felt for you. But now... I don’t know how to express what I feel now,” He squeezes her hand, hoping some extra meaning could be conveyed through this touch. 

Her face blooms a brilliant pink, but she doesn't care. She breathes out “Because now you feel...?”

He smirks, “I’ll say it a thousand times if you want me to. I love you; deeper than what I  _ thought  _ love felt like, before knowing both sides of you. Knowing all of you- it’s something I really thought I’d never get to know when I thought you were missing. A part of me was afraid I’d never see you again.” He lifts her hand and kisses the back of her fingers tenderly. 

She takes a step closer to him instead of pulling away, something she would have done a couple months ago. “Chat,”

“I was lost without you. But... somehow, I found you before either of us knew it. Marinette, you kept me from afloat. You needed me, but I also needed you in return; I still do. I always will.” 

Every word from his mouth touches her, taking hold in her mind and heart, leaving no room for doubt. She stands on her toes and leans in slowly.

He reaches up and caresses her cheek, unwittingly holding her back. A tinge of sadness tweaks his eyes, “I know you love someone else. So I’m not asking you to return any feelings for me, I don’t need you to. My intention is never to force your hand-”

“ _ Please shut up for a sec, _ ” she pleads with a half smirk, leaning all the way in to confidently brush her lips against his, kissing him with intent. 

She starts to pull back before Chat can even react. Dazed, his mouth hangs ajar, staring at Ladybug’s half-lidded smolder. He takes a staccato breath, “H-hold on,” he stammers, moving to hold her face in his hands, coaxing her back in for a re-do where his brain might function properly. 

It doesn't take much convincing on his part with Ladybug already draping her arms around his shoulders. In perfect synchronicity, their lips meet again, both now conscious and dazzled by the other. 

And much to both of their surprise, Chat is the one to pull away first. He rests his forehead on hers, allowing them to breathe together, both of their eyes still closed. They’ve never been this close before, at least intentionally. His hands rest on the small of her back while hers are still entwined behind his neck; incomparable to being tied up by an Akuma. The ease of their entanglement was like how a summer breeze carries a dandelion seed. 

She rests her cheek on his chest, eyes closed, her mind slowly climbing out of a different kind of fog than the amnesia induced one she had been in previously. This haze had a definite cause and she has no intention of asking him to leave right now. “What did you mean when you said you found me before we knew?” She asks curiously, lingering on the only hitch in what he’d said to her. 

He sighs, relieved in deciding what he’s going to do. “I’m privileged to know both sides of you. But now I need you to know me, all of me. That’s the only real way I can answer your question. I can’t hide from you any longer.” He swears with his voice low and slow, “ _ Great Guardian _ , do I have permission to reveal my identity to My Love;  _ to you _ ?” He kisses the top of her head lovingly, longingly. 

No more secrets? The idea was daunting, but so is imagining a life without Chat by her side, through every bump in the road with and without her mask. A life so tangible, so close, all she has to do is say-

“Yes.” She says softly, but clear as a bell, “Chat Noir, you have my permission.”

Ladybug feels his breathing halt, his chest frozen except for the gallop of his heartbeat threatening to beat out of his chest. Neither of them move an inch.

“Claws in”

She feels a release of energy run across his body, wincing slightly at the bright flash- even with her eyes still closed.

Ladybug slowly runs her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling that his sturdy leather suit has been replaced with soft cotton on his unmoving frame. “Chat?” She asks reflexively, knowing logically it’s still him with just a costume change, but still feels the need for some confirmation before she opens her eyes.

“Yes? I’m here,” he kisses the top of her head, his voice soothing her while also setting off distant synapses in the back of her mind. It was still Chat’s voice, but now his timbre rings with a different, unknown familiarity that wasn't there a second ago. “I’m ready” he assures with a tremendous calm.

She turns her face into his chest and opens her eyes, staring straight ahead to only see the small patch of white fabric immediately in front of her. “I don’t know if  _ I’m _ ready” she chuckles.

A bare hand, a finger glides under her chin, sending a chill up her spine. He coaxes her head back, tilting up to meet him truly for the first time. 

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere- except when obscured by a mask, apparently. 

It only takes a moment for her vision of Adrien standing before her blurs from the tears forming in her eyes. She chokes out a chuckle, sniffling from her tears, “H-how...? Adrien-?” 

He wipes her tears away with his thumb, “I feel the same way,” he leads them to a ledge of brick on the rooftop, sitting down to ease his own wobbly knees. “I’ve asked myself every day since I met you: ‘how’, ‘how lucky am I that I get to be your partner, to even know you.’ And little did I know, my luck stemmed beyond knowing you as Ladybug, but I also got to know you as Marinette as well. Which, I hold equally in my heart” He reminisces longingly, holding her hands in his between their laps. 

All the pain, all the worry following her accident, to Marinette, it was all worth it. This ‘happy beginning’ she feels instinctively in her own chest, is worth every moment leading them here. Blush burns her ears as she tries to think of something equally eloquent but, reflexively defensive, she jokes, “That’s a lot of luck for you, Black Cat.” 

The moonlight makes it impossible for Adrien to hide his own reddening cheeks, “Maybe you have enough for the both of us.” He kisses her shoulder thoughtfully. “So the ‘other guy’ you told me you liked...” 

There’d be time for her to find the words to match Chat’s profession, but for now, all she knows he needs to hear is, “I love  _ you _ , Adrien. It’s always been you” she says, edging on deliriously happy.

He drips her back, so she's leaning back over his lap, holding her in his arms, he kisses her with even more intensity than the last. Marinette returns his kiss with equal fervor, knowing she’ll never forget this moment.


End file.
